


Jinkies!

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Kuroo is the "Master Detective" and Kenma is his assistant, M/M, Minor Character Death, Oikawa the heir apparent to a huge fortune, idk how much each pairing is going to be featured just fair warning, it gets to be really complicated rip me, it's like a classic murder mystery, mystery au, or Agatha Christie, tags will be updated as I go in all categories, there's a lot of Scandal™, think like Clue, this is really just laying out the pretext for the story so far, though obviously I'm not as good as she is, with secret passages and dozens of rich people
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 20:54:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7284391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the patriarch of a wealthy family is murdered, "Master Detective" Kuroo Tetsurou and his "charming" assistant Kozume Kenma are called on to the case. And yes, the quotation marks are definitely warranted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jinkies!

**Author's Note:**

> This only happened because I watched Miss Marple Sherlock and Scooby Doo all in the same day and was like 'bruh' 
> 
> It's just a goofy old-style mystery au and it's probably going to get way out of hand like my other fics always do oh well
> 
> Fair warning this has only been proofread by me and I am far from infallible so sorry in advance for any errors with conventions (I also tried to put more space between certain paragraphs to make the changes in scene more obvious but it didn't work bc I am a scrub sorry) 
> 
> Hope you like it!

The opulence of the Oikawa manor was unrivalled. Even as a storm brewed in the distance outside, and the sun began to sink below the horizon, the atmosphere inside the grand hall was cheery and just a tad tipsy. A full orchestra played serenely in the corner as guests sat at various tables, joking and laughing and whispering the occasional secret or two. Clusters of flowers sat in the center of each table, surrounded by plates full of cake and crème brulee and eclairs. A lovely young woman, with full lips and shining hair, sat at the very front of the room, resplendent in a lacy white gown. A fat pearl ring rested comfortably on her left ring finger. Her new husband sat next to her, looking quite pleased with himself, and resting his hand on top of hers. No one seemed particularly bothered by the inclement weather brooding in the distance, and the troubles of the world seemed beneath everyone present at the moment. Or, most of the troubles, that is. 

A certain Oikawa Tooru was not seated, or particularly drunk, or even very happy. Sure, he was smiling, but that was merely the product of an often-practiced façade, one that he had down to a science. His head was bent inward, in deep conversation with his lifelong friend, Iwaizumi Hajime. In contrast to Oikawa, Iwaizumi’s expression was serious, and he continually shot glances over at the new bride, who was dining on cake and taking delicate sips of champagne. Oikawa wrung his hands and bit his lip, then shook his head emphatically. He paused for a moment, then flagged down a servant and retrieved a glass of champagne, which he quickly drained. 

“Fuck,” he finally sighed, pressing a finger to his temple, “Takeru better know what the hell he’s doing with her.” Iwaizumi shook his head. 

“He’s head over heels, Tooru. He’s probably clueless.” He shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know if there’s anything we can do,” he admitted. 

“Do you think it’s for the money?” Oikawa demanded. 

“I sure hope not, because if so then she’s going to be disappointed. Takeru won’t be inheriting much anytime soon,” Iwaizumi responded. 

“He still has plenty to go around for now.” Oikawa shot back. Iwaizumi rubbed his eyes with exasperation. 

“I just don’t know Tooru. All I know is that Takeru married her and now there’s not much we can do.” He said. Oikawa sighed heavily. 

“Damn that kid. He’s not stupid, but he’s never smart enough when it counts.” He finally spat. 

At about the same time, a young Hinata Shouyou fiddled awkwardly with his tuxedo, a mildly uncomfortable smile plastered to his face. His sister, Natsu, however, appeared much more at ease then he did, her hands comfortably shoved into the pockets of her skirt as she admired their surroundings with stars in her eyes. 

“This might be a little more difficult than I thought.” Hinata admitted. Natsu shot a cutting glance over at him. 

“What are you talking about?” she demanded. “You spent months psyching yourself up for this, and planning it all out! ‘We’ll be rich, Natsu!’ you said. ‘It’s going to be a piece of cake!’ you said. Why are you nervous now?” 

“Do you see how many people are here, Natsu? How are we supposed to sneak past everyone at this mess?” Hinata despaired, anxiously running his hands through his hair. Natsu swatted his fingers away. 

“Don’t do that, you spent like three hours trying to get your hair to lie flat. Besides, it’s not like we haven’t done something similar before.” She replied, trying her best to calm him down. 

“Natsu, before it was just a couple of pieces of bread, just things we needed to survive! We’ve never done anything this big.” Hinata protested. Natsu shook her head vehemently. 

“Don’t stress it too much. We’ll be in and out in a snap. It’s going to be fine, and once we’re done here will never have to do it again.” She beamed, and the gesture encouraged Hinata a little bit. He stood up straight, and smoothed down his tux. He was the older one here. He could do this. 

“Alright. Let’s get started,” he declared. 

A few minutes earlier, Kageyama Tobio found himself trapped in a conversation that he absolutely did not want to be a part of. Ushijima Wakatoshi and Goshiki Tsutomu flanked him on either side of the table, leaning in just a little too closely and lording over him. Moreover, they were discussing something that was inherently an uncomfortable topic for him. 

“How long do you think they can last like this?” Ushijima questioned, his eyes burning. 

“There’s rumors that it was all illegitimate anyway.” Goshiki offered. Kageyama was inclined to place a little bit less emphasis on what he said, because he tended to merely tag onto whatever Ushijima said and add some inane comment. 

“Even if it was illegitimate, Oikawa Kosuke is growing old. They’ll have to pass the money down soon. Obviously Oikawa, the son that is, will get most of it in the will. I highly doubt he has the capability to handle such a responsibility,” Ushijima snorted. He fixed Kageyama with a questioning stare. “It seems as though the two of us could be on the brink of opportunity.” 

“We could buy the estate out from underneath them!” Goshiki crowed, practically vibrating in his seat. Kageyama coughed and shifted in his seat. He didn’t suffer from a lack of ambition by any means, but he did tend to draw the line at preying on a rival family’s fortune before the patriarch had even passed on, let alone at a wedding for said family. 

“So either the fortune was acquired dishonorably or the security of the finances will be unstable at best in the near future. It will be a very long time before another opportunity like this comes about.” Ushijima observed, taking a thoughtful bite of his cake. 

“This is quite good,” He remarked, gesturing towards the cake, “Strawberry shortcake is one of my favorites.” 

Kageyama had to take a moment to process that conversational whiplash. 

As Kageyama floundered desperately, Nishinoya Yuu stood outside, near the garage, looking off into the distance. Azumane Asahi lumbered up behind him, his hands and coveralls stained with grease. 

“I still don’t understand why they decided to build a mansion on a big ass hill.” Noya remarked. Asahi shrugged, his movements slow and deliberate. 

“Who knows? Rich people like to be isolated from things, I think.” He responded. Noya turned to face him and jerked his thumb over his shoulder, at the dark clouds boiling in the distance. 

“How long do you think it’ll take before the storm hits?” he asked, wiping his hands off on his jeans. A smear of motor oil wound its way up his arm and spots of it dotted his cheeks. Asahi bit his lip in thought. 

“I’m thinking an hour, maybe two?” he tried. Noya squinted out towards the horizon. 

“You think so? It seems closer than that.” He guessed. 

“Yuu, we’re mechanics, not meteorologists. If you want to know how close the storm is, just wait a bit and you’ll find out pretty quickly.” Asahi sighed. Noya cracked a grin and hooked his thumbs in his pockets. 

“Alright, sounds good to me.” He chuckled. 

“What’s this about a storm?” a voice sounded from behind the pair, and Asahi and Nishinoya turned around, only to see Yahaba, Kyoutani, and Hanamaki winding their way towards them. Nishinoya wordlessly gestured towards the storm in the distance. 

“Weather looks like it’s going to get nasty pretty soon.” He remarked. Yahaba narrowed his eyes. 

“Great.” He deadpanned. “I’ll just go tell Oikawa that everyone can spend the night here instead of driving home during a thunderstorm at one o’ clock in the morning.” 

“Well I’m definitely not fucking cooking breakfast for anyone.” Hanamaki commented, tugging on the sleeves of his chef’s coat. 

“Seriously though, how is everybody going to get home?” Yahaba asked. “Nobody’s going to be leaving for a while, the reception barely started and half of the people inside are already drunk. Kyoutani can’t take everybody home.” 

“I’m a chauffeur, not a taxi driver.” Kyoutani grumbled. 

“Those are practically the same thing, buddy.” Hanamaki sighed, patting Kyoutani on the shoulder comfortingly. 

“I just know that getting everybody home is definitely not my problem.” Nishinoya sighed, putting his hands behind his head, his demeanor screaming casual indifference. Yahaba rolled his eyes and began to head back into the manor, muttering plans to himself. 

As the storm grew darker outside, Bokuto Koutarou found himself to be a little tipsier than he had planned. As in, tipsy enough to vomit on the floor near the doorway and thoroughly disgust his fiancé. 

“I’m reeeeaaally sorrrrrry Keeeeijiii.” Bokuto slurred, sitting up against the wall, his hair rumpled and his clothes in disarray. Akaashi pursed his lips and made a rather constipated expression, trying his hardest to hold back a snide comment. He was currently on his knees, a wad of wet paper towels in his hand, his suit jacket tossed off to the side, scrubbing at the vomit on the floor. 

“God, Koutarou, this smells terrible. What did you eat?” Akaashi muttered. 

“Only a couple eclaaaaaiirs. Keeeiji.” 

“What?” 

“I looooooooove yoooou.” Bokuto broke off at the end of this and began humming merrily to himself, staring off into space. Akaashi rolled his eyes, though not without a smile, and continued to scrub at the mess on the floor. 

His work was interrupted by the distinctive clicking of heels down the hallway. Akaashi looked up, only to spy the bride striding down the hallway, away from the festivities. He nodded cordially and muttered his congratulations, but the bride did not seem to notice him, instead turning and heading for the bathrooms. Akaashi let the moment pass, and grudgingly returned to his work. 

At about the same time Akaashi had spied the new bride, the Oikawa family was seated together at the front of the room, in full view of everyone present. Takeru was puffed up like a peacock in his tuxedo, his mother on one side of him and an empty chair on the other. Tooru was still standing off to the side, speaking with Iwaizumi about some other such nonsense, which was not particularly pleasing to Takeru’s grandmother. 

“Unbelievable. Tooru still has the gall to go gallivanting off with that _gardener_ even at his own nephew’s wedding,” Oikawa Setsuna muttered. Takeru smiled blankly, unsure how to respond to his grandmother’s blatant classism. 

“It’s not a big deal, Gammy.” He reassured her, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand. “Iwaizumi is a friend.” His grandmother continued on, oblivious to his attempts at placating her. 

“Even your wife can’t find it in her to stick around for more than a few minutes. What a disgrace.” She muttered venomously. Takeru’s eye twitched, but his smile stayed in place. His mother shuddered. 

“That’s definitely a face you picked up from Uncle Tooru.” She chuckled. “Try to tone down the glitchy expressions for a little bit, okay honey?” she laughed, resting her hand on Takeru’s shoulder. Takeru pried his hand away from his grandmother’s and shifted uncomfortably in his chair. 

“How does it feel to be a married man now, Takeru?” his grandfather boomed, taking a sip of his champagne. 

“It’s pretty amazing, I’m not going to lie.” Takeru replied, unable to keep himself from smiling a genuine grin this time. His grandfather nodded approvingly and patted his mother twice on the back. 

“I’m very proud of you, kid. Your mother did an excellent job of raising you.” Oikawa Kosuke paused for a moment, the whiskers of his mustache bristling impressively. “It’s a shame that Tooru will be inheriting most of the estate.” 

This comment left a damper over the table, and gave Takeru a disheartening reminder. Tooru was the oldest son, the next in line to inherit the Oikawa’s fortune. Money built up of years and years of hard work and capitalizing on opportunity and maybe a little bit too much ambition, all for Tooru. Takeru’s mother now had a slight frown on her face, and after a moment, she stood, brushing out imaginary wrinkles on her dress. 

“I’m going to grab some more champagne. Should I grab you some, father?” she asked. Kosuke nodded. 

“Yes, Kana, that would be lovely. Thank you.” With that, Takeru’s mother excused herself. 

For a few moments, everyone at the table was silent. However, the uncomfortable pause was interrupted by the arrival of Yahaba. 

“Ah, Yahaba dear,” Takeru’s grandmother cooed, “always a pleasure to see you. What do you need?” The butler bowed lightly then began to speak in a rather hurried tone. 

“There’s a thunderstorm blowing in, and it looks fairly nasty, ma’am. We don’t know how long it’s going to last for, and I was wondering if you had a plan to get the guests home safely,” Yahaba explained. Takeru chose this moment to interject. 

“The reception will probably go for a few more hours. How long do we have until the storm gets here?” 

“I’m no expert, but it only looks to be about fifteen minutes away,” Yahaba replied. 

“Can’t Kyoutani take them home? He’s the chauffer after all.” Takeru’s grandfather interjected. Yahaba shook his head. 

“We can’t have one person chauffeuring over one hundred guests home this late at night, sir. Plenty of people are already drunk, and we can’t just have them driving home. I suppose we could make arrangements for the guests to stay overnight, lord knows we have room, but I need permission first either way.” Takeru’s grandfather pondered this for a moment. 

“Let us wait until the storm gets here, and see how long it takes to blow over. Start preparing rooms for the guests just in case.” He finally decided. Yahaba nodded. 

“Alright, consider it done. Have a good evening, sir.” With that, he left as quickly as he arrived. Takeru spied his mother making his way over to the table, bearing four glasses of champagne. She passed by Tooru, and offered him a glass, sharing a warm smile with him. Takeru’s mother and Tooru had always gotten along well. She finally wound her way back to their table, and passed a glass of champagne to her father, her mother, and kept her own. 

“Did I miss anything?” she asked, her tone light. Takeru shook his head. 

“We just heard news that a storm was coming in soon. Nothing major.” He explained. His mother nodded and took a sip of her glass. 

“How soon is soon?” she asked, glancing out the window. Takeru’s grandfather took a heavy swig from his glass. 

“Yahaba said fifteen minutes, but I have a feeling it’s going to come in sooner.” He explained. As if a cue, there was a loud thunderclap, a flash of lightning, and the lights went out. 

“Shit.” Takeru swore, and moved to find a candle or something, but before he could, a blood curdling scream sounded throughout the hall. Takeru immediately whirled around, searching for the source of the scream, but the hall was pitch black. 

“Is everybody ok?” Takeru’s mother called, but the screams did not sound anymore. A haze of confusion overtook the great hall, and Takeru struggled to hold off the panic welling in his chest. That scream couldn’t have meant anything good. His wife was still gone as well, he had no idea where she was. 

A moment later, the lights flickered back on, and Takeru’s worst fears were realized. 

A chorus of shrieks filled the air, and Takeru suddenly felt like it was hard to breathe. 

His grandfather lay prone across the table, a steak knife plunged into his back. Blood stained the back of his shirt, pooled through his suit jacket. His champagne glass was still clenched in his hand. Takeru’s mother immediately searched for a pulse, but to no avail. Takeru suddenly felt weak at the knees. He sank down into his seat, watching the scene before him with wide eyes. His grandmother was wailing at the top of her lungs, guests were clamoring around to get a closer look at the body, and- 

“Help! I need some help over here!” A shout cut through the din, and Takeru leaped out of his seat, his body running on autopilot. Iwaizumi held a violently shaking Tooru, who was foaming at the mouth and vomiting profusely. 

“Oh god, oh god, oh god.” Takeru muttered. 

“Call an ambulance.” Iwaizumi ordered, and Takeru immediately dug into his pocket for his phone. Tooru’s limbs seemed to jerk beyond his control. Takeru shakily dialed 911 and pressed the phone to his ear, wishing that he could rewind and start the last twenty minutes over again. 

Finally, the operator picked up, and Takeru shrieked into the phone. 

“Hello? I need an ambulance at the Oikawa manor!” 

Yahaba was at Oikawa Kosuke’s side in an instant, shoving through the onlookers to get to the body. He turned to Kana’s tear-streaked face, his demeanor deceptively calm. 

“Should I call the police?” he asked, already poised to grab his phone. Setsuna shook her head. 

“No, no police. I don’t want them coming up here and making a circus.” She ordered. Yahaba wanted to argue, but he figured now was not the time to challenge his boss’s wife-well, newly made widow, he guessed. 

“What do you suppose I should do?” he asked. 

“Find somebody else. A private investigator or something. I don’t care. Just, no cops.” She ordered. Yahaba sighed and reached into his pocket for his phone. 

Kuroo Tetsurou sat with his feet perched on his desk, flicking through the day’s crossword puzzle with disinterest. The air conditioner was busted, and the sweltering muggy atmosphere was wreaking havoc on his hair. He mussed it up with his hand absentmindedly as he chewed on the eraser of his pencil. Kozume Kenma sat nearby, playing on his phone with practiced disinterest. A cardboard sign hung on the door, _Kuroo Tetsurou, Master Detective/Accountant_ scrawled onto it with pen. 

“Kuroo, when are you going to take the Master Detective part off of that sign? You know you’ve never worked a case before in your life.” Kenma asked. Kuroo reared back in mock offense, his hand over his heart. 

“Kenma, you wound me! I’ve just never worked an _official_ case before. You know I helped Yaku find his cat last week.” He replied, his usual smirk firmly in place. Kenma rolled his eyes. 

“I don’t think finding your friend’s lost cat counts as a case.” He protested. 

“Of course it does, it was a missing persons case. Yaku was positively distraught.” Kuroo explained. Kenma opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by the ringing of the phone hanging on the wall. They both stared at in disbelief for a moment, until Kuroo waved frantically towards the phone and Kenma leapt into action, yanking the phone off of its hook. 

“Kuroo and Kozume Investigations, how may I help you?” he asked. There was a long silence as Kenma listened to the other end of the line, nodding with the occasional “ok” thrown in. Kuroo sat at full attention, anxiously twiddling his pencil between his fingers. After what seemed like an eternity, Kenma hung up the phone. 

“So,” he began, turning to face Kuroo, his eyes shining in a way Kuroo had rarely seen, “It looks like we’ve got our first case.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Guess we'd better split up and search for clues, gang
> 
>  
> 
> [My Tumblr](http://disgustingweeabootrash.tumblr.com/)  
> 


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